Jingle Bells, Shotgun Shells
by Drag0nst0rm
Summary: The rise of the hungry dead is the best thing that ever happens to her.


**A/N: I don't own Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Number three of the Christmas fics.**

* * *

When Catherine is five, she receives a doll for Christmas. Ostensibly it's from both of her parents, but she knows her mother selected it alone. Her father wouldn't have cared enough to make the time.

It is a tolerable gift. She has just learned that word, and it is perfect for the situation - perfect for many situations.

The doll is elegant and expensive. It is entirely appropriate.

But everyone expects her to treat it like a baby when the way her brother is ordering his toy soldiers around looks far more appealing.

So she decides her doll is a queen and takes over the troop movements.

* * *

When she is eleven, she receives a horse. She had learned on ones from the stables. Now she has a majestic one of her own.

She loves to race across the ground, loves the power, the speed.

But when guests see her wild hair after one such ride, she has to give it up. From then on, she rides sedately and with dignity.

She can feel the coiled up power straining to be free in the horse, and she feels a certain kinship deep within.

* * *

When she is fifteen, she receives a new dress and approval to her request for a new dancing instructor more to her taste than the last. Anne is thrilled for her.

Her brother receives a new sword, and she burns with jealousy. At one time, she had thought she wanted to dance more than anything; at least dancing allowed one to move. But it is tame movement, ordered by other people, and it doesn't soothe the raging impatience within her. Perhaps fighting would be better.

She watches one of her brother's lessons. She was right, of course. It would be an improvement. But fencing is still too ordered, too constricted.

When she was five years old, she tried to take over her brother's soldiers, and he punched her in the mouth. She'd punched him right back before the adults had pulled them apart.

She has felt those hands tugging at her ever since.

* * *

When she is seventeen, what she receives is irrelevant. What matters is that she goes for a walk in the snow with Anne, and they are attacked by the recently deceased undergardener.

Catherine hits him over the head with a tree branch until he stops moving. Then she hits him some more to be safe. When he starts to twitch a bit again, she tries to send Anne for a knife, but her sister is still screaming.

Fortunately, the screams have drawn others, and they get him beheaded eventually.

Catherine's dress is ruined, but on the whole, she's quite pleased with herself.

* * *

On the strength of the attack, she managed to convince her brother to teach her to shoot. When the attacks spread, she argues her way into fencing and an instructor on hand to hand.

Her mother worries she'll ruin her face.

Catherine has never felt so alive.

* * *

When she loses an eye, she also loses her depth perception, so she reteaches herself to fight step by agonizing step.

She's fighting the undead again by Christmas, as is her duty. She rewards herself with a gift: a black eyepatch that's flawless, tasteful, and will never let anyone forget who she is.

Her face isn't ruined after all. In fact, Catherine feels remarkably whole.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **There were a number of things about this film I had objections to - like it's attempt to make its zombie apocalypse tie into Christianity - but my beta liked it, and I really loved Lady Catherine in this, so I decided to dedicate this piece to her. I think Lady Catherine would have enjoyed her life in the novel a lot more if there were more zombies to kill in it.**

 **Also, headcanon time! In canon, she says that "Daughters are never of much consequence to their fathers." Which is, in hindsight, kind of heartbreaking. Because while Lady Catherine is wrong about a lot of things, she's mostly wrong by assuming her history/opinions apply to everyone else. Which kind of suggests that she was never of a lot of consequence to her father, and Anne was never of much consequence to her husband, so Lady Catherine assumed that was true of all fathers. Which is sad.**


End file.
